


Oops?

by kmandofan90



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gender Neutral, Mild Injury, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmandofan90/pseuds/kmandofan90
Summary: Din is impatient and has a little accident.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, The Mandalorian/Reader, The Mandalorian/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Oops?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HDLynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/gifts).



> **Pairing:** Din x GN!Reader  
>  **Word Count:** 750  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** Mild injury, some blood, nothing explicit or gory.  
>  **Author’s Notes:** Din is impatient and has a little accident. Written for my darling @hdlynn. ❤️
> 
> Originally posted over on Tumblr at: anxiety-riddled-mando.tumblr.com  
> I'm in the process of migrating my many works over here to AO3. :D

Standing in the doorway to the galley, you stare at Din, who somehow manages to look calm and collected despite his injury. Your eyes drop down to his hand, then back up to Din’s warm brown eyes. You left him unsupervised for two minutes to go get Junior’s clothes out of the wash.

_Two minutes._

“Din,” you say, keeping your voice calm and collected.

“Yes, cyare?” he asks casually.

He reaches out with his uninjured hand to try and find the handcloth on the counter, not breaking his eyes away from yours. You gape at him.

“Is that blood?” you ask, forcing yourself to breathe.

He clears his throat a bit and gives you a sheepish smile. It seems that the saying holds true: there are three braincells for the Tribe. The hunters share one between themselves and Alor holds on to the other two for safekeeping.

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now,” he says in a placating sort of tone. “What does matter is – “

“Din. You are literally bleeding,” you say, gesturing at the wound on his hand. “You are bleeding all over the counter. And the food. _And the floor_.”

“It’s only a scratch,” he says, finally tearing his eyes from yours. “Just an accident.”

Your body moves forward as you reach for the cabinet door. Pulling it open, you find the med kit and put it down on the counter, unzipping the top as you close the door. Din sighs as you grab a bacta patch and something for the pain.

“How?” you ask him. “I left you alone for _two minutes_ , cyare.”

He wraps the cloth around his hand to staunch the flow of blood. He gestures at the cutting board. The tip of his vibroblade is buried into the wood, while the stubborn yellow gourd sits next to it, its tough rind completely unmarred.

“I couldn’t pierce the skin with a regular knife,” Din says. “So…uh…I tried to use my vibroblade.”

Your head jerks up at those words and you glower at him.

“I cleaned it well,” he says hastily. “I promise.”

You glare at him.

“It slipped,” Din says with a sheepish look. “And I ended up slicing myself across the palm.”

“Can you move your fingers?” you ask tersely.

“Yeah, he says, wriggling his fingers. Another spurt of crimson saturates the cloth. “Oops. Sorry.”

You grit your jaw tightly and focus on your breathing.

“Wash your hand,” you order.

Din obeys, turning on the faucet and sticking his hand into the stream of water. Once his palm is washed clean, you can see the injury is a shallow gouge across his palm. It won’t require stitches, but it will sting for a little while.

“I was only trying to make dinner,” Din confesses. “You work so hard…I just wanted…” He sighs quietly. “I just wanted you to have something nice to eat, cyare.”

“I truly appreciate the sentiment, Din,” you say. “I was just surprised to walk in and see you bleeding all over everything. Dry that off with some paper towels.”

He pulls his hand out of the stream of water and uses a wad of clean paper towels to staunch the flow of blood. You open the bacta patch and quickly place it over the wound. Then you wrap it with gauze snugly, tucking the edges under to keep him from fidgeting with it. 

“Din.”

“Yes, cyare?”

“Did you forget to steam the gourd first?”

He looks away, cheeks flushing pink in mortification.

“I…was trying to skip that step,” he admits. “I wanted to get dinner on the table quickly…”

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Then you exhale slowly. Gods above, you love this man, but he can be a handful at times.

“You’re an idiot.”

“But I am _your_ idiot,” he says, his lips quirking up at the corners.

With his good hand, he pulls you in for a hug and presses his lips against your temple. You relax into his embrace, sighing at the tickle of his beard against your face. He smells like himself, with an undercurrent of blaster residue and the metallic smell of his beskar’gam.

“I’ll clean this mess up,” Din says. “Then we can go to the market and pick something up to eat, alright?”

You smile up at him and press your lips to his.

“As long as you promise to keep your vibroblade _put away_ ,” you say.

He only laughs as you grab the cleaning spray and some cloths.

-

-

-

Mando’a Translations

Alor - leader  
Cyare - beloved  
Beskar’gam - armor


End file.
